Nowadays, most people don't use ticket machines

Pedestrians in front of station — Pedestrians in front of the station

Even today, rows of ticket machines still stand beside the ticket gates at Shinjuku Station in Tokyo. Yet far fewer people stop in front of them than they once did. Ever since IC cards like Suica and Pasmo became widespread, there’s hardly any need to buy a paper ticket to pass through the gates. In the old days, office workers would line up before work, clutching coins in their hands. Now, people glide past without a word, barely touching the machines. Life has certainly become easier—but I can’t help feeling that something has been quietly left behind.

The machines seem to linger there, unable to forget their former bustle. Lined up neatly along the wall like exhibits in a museum, they wait in silence for the day their duty comes to an end. Their screens still blink with a healthy green glow, but up close you can see the scratches, the worn buttons, the small scars of long service. They’ve worked hard, and it shows.

Still, not everyone in Shinjuku carries an IC card. There are travelers, the occasional elderly passenger, who stop to buy a ticket the old-fashioned way. Watching them rummage through their wallets and press the buttons, the past momentarily returns—people buying tickets, passing through the gates, setting off on their journeys. It feels like a small echo of Japan’s railway heritage.

As for me, I’ve long joined the tap-and-go crowd. If someone asked me to recall exactly how to buy a paper ticket, I’d probably hesitate. Someday, I suspect, buying a train ticket will become like dialing a rotary phone—a nostalgic bit of knowledge, remembered fondly but no longer needed.

Shinjuku Station on Google Map

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